


dichasium

by 3minswriting



Series: inflorescence [2]
Category: NU'EST
Genre: !ratings and warnings vary!, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, aus and canon and drabbles in between, pls read notes for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 17,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: the second collection of random drabbles & one shots.1. dead of night | JBaek (T)2. study buddy | MinBaek (G)3. A C(raving) T(o) go H(ome) | BaekRon (G)4. i see the stars (i see you) | BaekMin (G)5. a thousand flames can't compare | MinBaek (T)6. with my best friend | JBaekRen (RenBaek, JBaek) (T)7. and when you touch me baby, i turn red | JBaek (M)8. counting (on you) | JBaek (T)9. i'm not usually like this (but i like what you're doing to me) | MinRon (M)10. freefalling | BaekRon (G)11. i call your name | JBaek (T)12. a little game | 2Hyun (G)13.she's so sweet (like strawberries) | JBaek (G) (genderbent, wlw)14. little comforts | JBaek (M)15. just out of reach | MinBaek (T)16. damsels & dessert | JBaek (G)17. Jasmine and Rose Petals | 2Hyun (G)
Relationships: Choi Minki | Ren/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Choi Minki | Ren/Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR, Hwang Minhyun/Aaron Kwak | Aron, Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho, Hwang Minhyun/Kim Jonghyun | JR, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Aaron Kwak | Aron, Kang Dongho | Baekho/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Series: inflorescence [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993198
Comments: 92
Kudos: 112





	1. dead of night | JBaek (T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i back? idek. TW: blood, implied death
> 
> happy halloween to my special pumpkin, ily.

-

“-`re here?”

Braced against fabric and muscle, Dongho’s voice is muffled. Barely recognisable as his own. Heavy breaths escape between the layers, wetness dribbling down his forehead to his cheeks, flushed red with blood and the biting cold seeping through the damp floor underneath them in equal measure.

The space is dark. Cramped. He can feel Jonghyun’s body pressed against him, sharing warmth, sharing a hand firmly within his own. A thin sliver of light, pathetic as a dying whimper, limps through the keyhole. Beyond the door there is no sound save for the taps of rain against the window.

But they’re out there.

Dongho doesn’t need to see them, or hear them, to know they are.

Waiting.

“Shh.” Jonghyun’s voice is barely above a whisper.

A blind hand carefully trails up his forearm, and if it were any other time – _god,_ Dongho thinks, _if it were_ any _other time but this –_ he would have swooned, with his hairs standing on end and pleasant goosebumps pricking over his skin at Jonghyun’s touch. Locked in a tiny space with only the darkness and no living souls in the house but his best _friend_ , whose hand now moves to take hold of his jaw and turn him gently towards him; Dongho wishes it could have been different. That Jonghyun’s hand at his chin was pulling him in to deliver a sweet kiss, a confession when words could not suffice.

That the wetness on his own face was from happy tears and Jonghyun was thumbing them away.

“S’no good..” Dongho mutters.

“Shh..”

The air touching his jaw is cold when Jonghyun pulls his hand back. The makeshift bandage had been keeping more than just the blood in, Dongho realises with a faint, liquid-lipped smile as his mind begins to fog, _it was keeping me warm_. He shifts his weight, finds a shoulder, rests his aching head.

“S’cold.” The syllables struggle free.

Coathangers bustle, the scrape of plastic against metal above them. Jonghyun is slow, careful, a rustle of fabric, an unworn sleeve eased off one end and then another.

A cupboard. This is where they would spend their last night here in the countryside.

Dongho wants to laugh. Maybe it’s the blood loss, maybe it’s the hysteria.

Maybe it’s the hundreds of red eyes seared into his memory that had lit up the dark forest around the cabin, or the helpless screams of his friends from the shadows that harmonised with his own calling their name. Desperate cries for help.

Theirs started, his started.

Theirs finished, and his kept going until one of the shades clawed at him.

Only Jonghyun’s hand grabbing him had kept him safe.

Where Dongho had frozen, Jonghyun had thawed.

_Dongho, come on!_

The tiny sliver of light from the keyhole is swallowed up; no more dying whimpers save for the one lodged in Dongho’s throat as full darkness descends. He turns to Jonghyun, a weak press of his fingers signalling him to look.

Something soft presses against Dongho’s cheek, trembling, covers his mouth tenderly.

It’s not a bandage.

“..it’ll be ok.” Jonghyun murmurs against his lips.

Dongho moves, splays his fingers to ease between his best friend’s – his love, the only one, and it feels warm for that moment even though they are both shivering.

“..shh.”

He just wishes the wetness on dripping onto his lips was only his blood now, and not Jonghyun’s tears.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading!


	2. study buddy | MinBaek (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> celebrating Minhyun's drama with Baekho(rang) with a tiny dusty drabble from the ol' vault.

"Kang!"

He heard the voice shouting at him and stopped immediately, glancing over his shoulder.

So too did every other student in the packed hallway who watched in awed silence as their Student Council President strode from the classroom Dongho had just left. They would have looked anyway - Hwang Minhyun always turned heads and left jaws gaping with his handsome appearance, and ever since he'd dyed his hair blond two months ago; the lightness had added a soft, ethereal quality to his otherwise sharp features.

  
  


But they would never have bothered looking at Kang Dongho too - he was a nobody to most of the population.

  
  


People barely spared a moment's consideration at his presence except to gossip about his ill-fitting uniform and oversized glasses that fell off the bridge of his nose every ten seconds. The navy vests he wore seemed to strangle his torso, two sizes too small ( _who is he kidding_ , they'd snide, _just stop eating if you want to look skinny_ ), and made his oversized white shirt and baggy trousers all the more apparent.

Of course Dongho knew about the jokes, heard all the rumours, tried to ignore them.

Those didn't hurt - what hurt was the tender bruises those clothes covered, and the fact he had to borrow his best friend's vests because he couldn't bring himself tell his parents what the school bully had done to his own any given week.

  
  


Compared to the sleekly-fitted white and navy blazer that graced the tall, lean frame of the Student Council President currently walking towards him, Dongho knew he looked about as awkward as he felt.

Fingertips finding the cuffs of his shirt, Dongho rumpled the stiff material as he tried to figure out _why_ Hwang Minhyun was coming over, _why_ Hwang Minhyun knew his name, and how in the _fuck_ he was going to get out of whatever trouble he was probably in - if not from Minhyun, then from the dozens of fangirls who would resent him being noticed by their beloved ‘oppa’.

  
  


The last question lingered on his mind the most, rising right up to the top of his worries the second the SC President stopped right in front of him and _smiled_.

  
  


That was it.

  
  


Dongho's death sentence from the rest of the student body.

  
  


Damn he wished he had kumdo club today. At least he could have asked Mingi to bury him with his jukto like the brave warriors of old (he didn’t really pay attention in history class; Mr Jeon’s voice was too soothing he usually found himself drifting off honestly).

  
  


No such luck.

  
  


Then it got worse.

  
  


"You dropped this." Minhyun said sweetly.

Dongho looked down at the offered piece of paper waiting in perfectly manicured hands.

Recognised the big fat red **'D-'** stamped on the top left hand corner and the terse _‘did you even try, Kang? See me after class today.’_

"Huh? N-no can't be mine." He shook his head, glasses dripping down to the tip of his nose.

  
Minhyun blinked, still smiling. "But it has your name on it."

  
  
“Are you sure?” The moment the words left his lips, Dongho wished he could sink through the scuffed white tiles and into the molten core of the earth. It’d probably be cooler there than here under the burning gazes of dozens of jealous classmates as their beloved SC President nodded, laughing and reached out to take hold of Dongho’s wrist.

“I’m sure.” Minhyun urged the paper into Dongho’s clenched fist. “Take it.”

Dongho barely had the mental power to unfurl his fingers from his sleeve cuff, staring up at his taller classmate. He didn’t want his quiz back. He didn’t want to see Teacher Kwak after class today. And he definitely didn’t want to look away from Minhyun right now because if he did then he’d be pierced by the hundreds of daggers being glared at him.

“T-thanks.” Dongho took the flimsy paper into his hand.

Minhyun’s grip stayed on his wrist.

“I couldn’t help but notice your mark, I’m sorry.” The SC President said sheepishly, raising his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “You know, I’m pretty good at English.”

Dongho knew that. Everyone knew that.

Literally everyone.

_But what did that have to do with anything_ , Dongho wanted to ask.

He didn’t ask.

He didn’t even want to know. Minhyun's hand on his wrist was warm, too warm. _It's burning, it's too much_. The thoughts circled, panic rising. His ears were warm, and Minhyun was still standing there, oblivious to the rest of the crowd still _holding his wrist_ and Dongho couldn't look away.

“I could tutor you, if you like?”

Dongho gaped. This was bad. His mind started racing as he tried to formulate a response but Minhyun was already filling in the gaps that Dongho’s tongue couldn’t stop leaving as he stared on helplessly.

“I’m free on Wednesdays after school, I’ll meet you after your last class and we can go to the library together. See you then Dongho-yah!” 

The hand on his wrist squeezed lightly as Minhyun released him from his grip, but it took about ten seconds after the SC President had walked off humming to himself for the spell to be broken and Dongho to come back to his senses. He stared down at the paper fluttering in his grip.

Blinked.

Raised it to his eyes. Blurry.

Fixed his glasses.

The **D-** was still there.

But there was another mark on there – and it wasn’t a grade.

_‘If you have any questions about your homework, call me anytime ;) 010-0809-0721. I'm waiting~ your SCP’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! comments/kudos are always appreciated


	3. A C(raving) T(o) go H(ome) | BaekRon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just nerves, regular ol' stagefright.
> 
> And wanting to run back home,
> 
> that's normal
> 
> (isn't it?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for my deep sea love, talents and heart as untamed as the ocean.

-

He can hear the thousands of voices shaking the entire building. The harmony is sweetly pitched, high, mostly feminine, and sets an electric charge in the air that Aron can taste on the tip of his tongue. It tingles, filling him with a primal anticipation - 'adrenalin', that's what all of the vocal trainers and dance instructors drilled into him since day one. He can hear the memories even more clearly than the chanting audience filling the auditorium.

_'Don't let the nerves get to you,'_ Teacher Kim would scold him, a flick of his sharp nose reminding Aron to stop slouching and stand up straight beside his new labelmates as he continued, _'They'll fill you with energy, but if you don't stay calm, you'll lose track of your breathing. Breathing is key.'_

He'd always hated those lessons, feeling the pressure of being the eldest yet weakest in the korean language. Next to the confident exuberance of the likes of Choi Mingi, Hwang Minhyun, and the bubbling energy of Kang Dongho, Aron usually found himself slouching to the side and hoping that beside him, the quieter Kim Jonghyun would be singled out by their vocal coach instead of him. 

It's those same lessons that bring him into a careful cycle of filling his lungs in, out, in, out, a steady stream of air that trembles between tense lips when, beyond three sets of stage doors, thousands of excited fans are calling their collective name. 

_Fuck_ , he has to go out there. 

Soon.

The room is packed, makeup artists, stylists, recording teams. Everyone’s too busy to notice the young man in a sparkling navy suit slouching in the corner, his brown hair styled into spikes so sharp he'd teased the hairdresser that he was from LA, not New York, no need to go all Statue of Liberty on him. Hadn't missed her blank stare and wished he'd never said anything, longing for back home where he could do his own hair, where no one would judge him.

"You ok?" Dongho appears from the bustle and is beside him in that split second, leaning to bring their shoulders together. 

"Yeah." Aron finds a smile and slaps it onto his face to reassure him. 

The last thing he needs is to push their main vocal into the same nervous, spiralling headspace he's in. But looking at Dongho's eyes, he can't bring himself to completely lie, either, "It's..been a while, you know? Since we..."

"It has." The eyes Aron stares into disappear, becoming semi-circles under bunched up cheeks. Dongho is painted gold with heavy warm-toned foundation, maintaining a perfect complexion even under the most unforgiving lens but he's glistening too - a light sheen of sweat that makes Aron wonder if it's because it's hot (it's not, he'd been reluctant to hand over his puffy jacket to Mingi and these damn rooms were never heated properly, cutting costs everywhere) or because maybe-

Aron slides his palm into Dongho's, feels the clamminess of his skin sticking to his own. 

"Are you ok, Dongho-ah?" 

Dongho's eyes widen, fluttering, and he giggles a little too high, but his fingers easily intertwine with Aron's. 

"I'm nervous, but it's exciting. I-" He glances to the doors, unseeing of the dozens of rushing waves of staff bustling through, as though he could see them - the owners of all those voices. 

Aron stares at Dongho's profile, at the bead of sweat that falls onto his chin. It doesn't budge the gold and bronzed tints of paint and powder covering Dongho's face.

Aron wishes it did. He wants to see underneath the layers. He wants to see the Dongho that's been at home with him for the last nine months of the year; clean unshaven face, curly hair, and amber eyes peeking up blearily when it's time to wake up and walk the dogs or go the gym (they never get far because it's one look and Aron doesn't want to go anywhere else, he wants to be here.)

" _Shit_." Aron breathes.

"Hm?" Dongho pauses mid-sentence. Hand squeezing Aron's and even the sweat, Aron realises, feels good, feels familiar and safe- "Aron-ah." 

"I..I'm just nervous. That's all." Breathes in, holds. Bites the inside of his cheek. Breathes out. _Don't make a fuss, don't make a big deal. You want this, you've missed this, this is your job, breathe in, get it together Kwak, hold,_ hold **hold-**

"Aron." Dongho's voice is firm, low. His touch, however, is gentle. His free hand strokes along Aron's hollowed cheek until all the air leaves Aron's lungs again and he's breathing. 

"Sorry-" Aron fumbles through the apology, gets as far as that single word before Dongho says his name again.

"Don't be sorry. What's wrong?"

"I....don't know." He can't look Dongho in the eye this time.

Somewhere in the busy standby room, a man shouts for ten minutes until curtains. Aron shivers, mutters that he's cold, it's just cold.

"Ok." Heat, sweaty and comforting and heavy, smothers Aron's body. He can feel every knot and ridged strap of scant leather that decorates Dongho's chest pressing against his own. He swims in it, the familiarity of home, home that safe place that he could barely leave in the madness of the last nine months and inhales the oddly familiar notes of grapefruit and nutmeg perfume in sweet lungfuls.

"Dongho..." Aron chuckles, another rush of air leaving his stressed organs.

Dongho pulls back just enough for their gazes to lock. His arms stay around Aron's shoulders and Aron wouldn't want them anywhere else but, "did you steal Minhyun's perfume again?"

Dongho's lips make a pretty 'o' before spreading into an even prettier, coy smile. If the room was empty of all but their bandmates maybe Aron would have snuck a taste of cherry lip tint and sweet air but they're 

_"five minutes" comes the call_

so close to showtime and they have to go out there in front of a sold-out arena before he can savour privacy again. 

"Only a little, he left it out on the counter!" While Dongho waves an arm as he defends himself, Aron keeps his arm anchored around the other's half-bare waist. "And I couldn't find mine before we left.." A pause. "Why, does it smell bad?" 

"No, it's nice. It's perfect." Dongho eyes him and Aron bumps his hip and squeezes him tighter. "It's not what I'm used to, but it's you. It's good." 

"Ok." Dongho smiles, turning when approaching footsteps stop in front of them. 

"We ready?" Jonghyun asks; he's looking at Aron even if his hand brushes over Dongho's arm. Any onlooker would think he was checking on their extroverted main vocal; the one expected to be fragile after months of isolation from the rest of the world. Definitely not the strong, quiet introvert, who must have loved the break.

And Aron had loved it. Being free from prying eyes and being with his partner as just himself, not some performer on stage.

Home was safe. Comfortable. He couldn't screw up at home, not really. No one was staring and judging (maybe Kkotsunie, sometimes, when he forgot food on the stove and had to flap a tea towel at the smoke alarm while Dongho scrambled for the broom to reach the switch).

The arm remaining around his shoulder tightens and Aron breaks eye contact with his leader to glance at Dongho. Dongho is bright, animated as he encourages Minhyun for his new lines in their first song in the set list - _'you're going to sound beautiful'_ (and Minhyun will, Aron knows, since he was at Dongho's side while his partner was composing it two years ago, humming some parts in a pitch too high for himself but perfect for their missing member) - and those words make Minhyun beam. Mingi's leading the pack out, cheerful voice competing with the thousands of fans beyond but he's a little too chatty, a little too loud-

They're all nervous. It's their first comeback, a real stage after almost a year away. 

It's going to be huge, scary, different. It won't be perfect- no such thing as a perfect performance and Aron thinks he's ok with that now because out there there're so many loves waiting, and home will still be waiting, and there's love there too.

Waiting just for him.

Aron breathes, looking back at Jonghyun. He grins and his leader returns it knowingly. 

"Yeah, ready." 

  
  


-

  
  


_(he is ready, really; he'd sooner lie to his own Dongho than he would Jonghyun and he'd_ never _lie to Dongho, but the staff don't need to know he is - they give him those extra few seconds to 'look for his in-ear piece' that he needs Dongho to 'help him find' without a second thought._

_and maybe there's a few smudges on Dongho's foundation when they run to the stage hand in hand. maybe Aron can taste the sweetness of cherries and smells a little like grapefruit and nutmeg._

_only Dongho's going to be close enough to know that._

_only Dongho's close enough to know him,_

_and when the curtain rises and the air leaves Aron's lungs for a split second_

_in that same second,_

_he feels Dongho's shoulder is against his.)_

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, your comments&kudos are very much appreciated! tysm for reading!


	4. i see the stars (i see you) | BaekMin (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On nights like these, Dongho prefers to stay out late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm to the lovely prompter! i hope you will enjoy ;;

On nights like these, Dongho prefers to stay out late. The frost settles into every tiny pocket of his lungs, exploding into a cheerful mist when he exhales behind his thick grey scarf. The streets are populated only with wanderers; people who he likes to pretend are just like him - with no place to be, with a warm bed waiting for them that they can’t fill yet, not while there’s still a chance they’ll stay awake when their head hits the pillow.

Dongho's bed isn't empty - he can see it in his mind's eye as he walks: how long limbs once wrapped around him would now be sprawled out over the white sheets, converting the blankets into a pretty veil to cover pale skin, quiet snores breaking the silence at each rise and fall of his chest. When he gets back inside, Dongho will crawl into bed, chuckling when he's asked what the time is before he can even settle under the covers.

_'Time to go back to sleep, Minyeon-ah.'_ Dongho will breathe in the lingering scent of burnt amber and wild rose that decorates the other’s neck.

_'It's morning?'_ Thick with sleep, it’ll be more a grunt than words.

_'Still early.'_ Dongho knows he’ll be in trouble – he is every time, with Minhyun always waking him by seven a.m. and telling him that if he’s so tired, he should think about that next time he wants to go for random walks in the middle of the night instead of sleeping like a normal person.

Minhyun’s right, of course.

He’s always right and Dongho can’t bring himself to be too annoyed whenever his co-worker points it out, even if he’s half asleep and whines when Minhyun yanks the blankets off of him to get him up faster.

He can’t help it though. He lies awake long after the sweat cools on his skin and listens to the unbothered rise and fall of even breathing beside him, stares at the ceiling or at Minhyun’s relaxed features, the elegant slope of his nose, the strands of dark hair curved against his cheekbone. Thoughts that can’t be considered in daylight when they’re out in public and the distance maintained for their image is a necessity, fill Dongho’s mind in the silence. The itch in his muscles urges him _(to reach out, to chase that outline of parted lips with a fingertip with the tenderness of a lover and not just a hopeless admirer)_ out of bed regardless of the hour or how warm it is pressed against Minhyun’s side. 

So he takes a walk outside and the crisp autumn air welcomes him, refreshes his senses. Dongho walks the streets until his calves are strained and his cheeks are permanently pink from the cold, sniffling behind his scarf.

He looks up at the stars – they’re not always visible, sometimes from thin cloud, sometimes by the taut vinyl of an umbrella – makes the same wish he’s had since he was sixteen, and turns around.

The apartment is silent most of the time, still drenched in darkness. He always showers first, head bowed under the steaming water until the feeling returns ( _it’s still there it’s always there_ ) in his body. Then Dongho slips between the covers, waits as Minhyun shifts automatically towards his warmth, and asks what the time is.

_'Time to go back to sleep, Minyeon-ah.'_

_'It's morning?'_

_'Still early.'_

Sometimes, Dongho dreams there’s a reply.

‘ _`love you._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! comments&kudos are always appreciated!


	5. a thousand flames can't compare | MinBaek (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The floor is on fire.
> 
> Actual fire. 
> 
> Contained fire, Minhyun notes as he stares at his living room from the ajar front door, laptop bag dangling from his fingertips. 

"What the-?" 

The floor is on fire.

Actual fire. 

_Contained fire_ , Minhyun notes as he stares at his living room from the ajar front door, laptop bag dangling from his fingertips. 

Hundreds of lit candles in a wild assortment of containers - there's that polka-dot mug with the fox on it Mingi bought for him on his last trip to Japan, his sister's chipped blue saucer he uses for heating banchan in the microwave, and at least fifteen glasses that he thought he had thrown out over the last month from when they'd had their housewarming - are sprawled across the hardwood. Hard wax of every shade waters like faltering tears under dancing flames. 

The perfume hits next; the act of opening the door has excited the air currents and they rush like eager schoolchildren after the bell’s rung to escape - outside, up Minhyun's nose, into the folds of his jacket, anywhere.

By the time he brings his forearm to his face, it's too late. The strange concoction of wild iris, patchouli, pumpkin spice, raspberry, sandalwood, and god only knew what else seeps into his pores and he turns away.

Minhyun hesitates, glances down at the front door key still sitting in the lock. It fit. It opened. This is definitely his house. That is definitely his fox mug on the floor between the bar stool and the kitchen island. 

He tugs the key free, struggling to keep his forearm in place. Minhyun's elbow nudges at the edge of the front door to close it, pauses, and steps away. The perfume is probably safer outside.

He throws a thoughtful, longing look over his shoulder. The lights are so abundant, they're foreboding, suggesting something he can't quite put his finger on. It is late but there's probably a local restaurant, a store, something open where he could go. Traffic wasn't too bad and maybe- 

Minhyun sighs, and pushes the door shut. 

Leather pinches at the sides of his feet as he tiptoes through the narrow strip of the clear fire trail. The candles flicker in greeting as his motion shifts the air around them, a thousand burning hands outstretched and waving.

"Dongho?" His voice is muffled.

No response.

"Dongho-yah!" Minhyun pulls his hand away, accidentally breathes in.

The smell isn't strong anymore. In fact, he can barely notices it as a familiar face cautiously peeks around the door from the hallway. 

"Oh! You're home already?" Dongho chirps as though they hadn't seen each other off at the train station this morning, a shy squeeze pressed to Minhyun's knuckles as he'd said goodbye. 

"Dongho-ah, why is our house on fire?" Minhyun gestures at the candles with a shake of his laptop bag.

"It's WHAT?" Dongho leaps out into the hallway, smile transformed into panicked horror as he darts to the bathroom.

Inside, the sudden hiss of water slaps an echo against plastic, then gurgles harshly against itself. Minhyun strolls carefully to follow, drops the bag on the couch as he does, puts his house key on the small console table next to a dozen tealight candles floating in his favourite salad bowl.

The hall is lined by tall pillar candles dutifully spaced with militaristic precision. Warm light spreads up the white walls, licks around hanging photo frames. Minhyun glances at them; they look different in candlelight, the colours dimmer, less saturated, the beaming faces and repeated side-on kiss poses appearing somehow softer. Romantic, even.

"Shit, shit." Dongho's mutters are barely audible over the bath tap, hunched over the tub and waiting for the laundry bucket to fill. He is a vague shadow of wine and black hair and fair skin in the low light, his broad shoulders hunched and he looks small to Minhyun, so very tiny that he can't help but smile to himself.

Leaning against the doorframe, Minhyun looks over the room in wonderment. "What are you doing?"

"Minhyun!" Dongho jumps up, silk robe shifting around his knees. The bucket clacks against porcelain. "Thank god- where's the fire?"

"Uh, everywhere?" Minhyun throws a thumb over his shoulder, points out the few pillar candles scattered between laneways of rose petals and-

-Dongho's nose scrunches as Minhyun's eyes widen. In that second, the panic is transferred from one to the other.

"Oh." Their voices harmonise, then Dongho adds flatly, "you're making fun of me."

As Dongho turns around and crouches to turn off the tap, muttering 'ha ha', Minhyun digs into his pocket and unlocks his phone.

No alerts. No notifications. 

Taps on his calendar.

Nothing but past work meetings. 

He lets out a breath. It's not an anniversary or birthday - it's November, there's nothing is there- 

"Well," Dongho's frowning when Minhyun looks at him again and eases his phone back into his pocket, "welcome home I guess. Surprise."

"Thanks, kitten." Minhyun smiles and holds out his hand.

The pout on Dongho's lips is adorable, but it's far from the kiss he's expecting when the other walks past him. Minhyun's hand shoots out before he can, glides around to copy the sash of black silk squeezing Dongho's waist. 

"What, no kiss?" He copies the expression, nose barely catching a flick of black curls shifting out of reach.

"What, no fire?" Dongho says and he can't help it; Minhyun laughs.

He's busted, whatever's the occasion he's definitely forgotten it, but he laughs and pulls the resisting body of his husband against him, other arm joining to tighten the slippery material around Dongho's waist and kisses the top of his head.

"There's a little spark, maybe." Minhyun sing-songs even as Dongho petulantly refuses to follow the sway of his body, "so cranky~"

"Yeah!" Dongho snaps back, "..trying to do something nice.."

"It's nice." Minhyun rests his chin atop black curls, surveys the hallway lined candles, their solemn procession guarding each stop to the open plan living room and kitchen. 

Every dish, every cup, every shadow and hanging memory has been transformed by the golden glow that permeates their home like the inescapable humidity of the summer winds, like the warmth of Dongho's body pressed against his own. It must have taken an hour, at least, to arrange and light everything, but Minhyun can't remember their home ever looking more beautiful than in this moment, doused in the glow of his husband's efforts.

"..you like it?" His voice is soft, rounded as the halos of candlelight. Small, but bright, warm.

"Yeah." Minhyun murmurs, and kisses Dongho's curls again. "What's the occasion?"

"Huh?" Dongho finally, finally turns towards him, twists in his grasp to glance up, brows wrinkling as his lips part. "There's none...?"

"None?" 'Thank god' is breathed only in his mind. 

"What, do I have to have a reason to do something special?" Dongho squints at him.

"Well I don't know." Minhyun teases, "if cleaning up three hundred candles and scrubbing wax off all our dishes is your idea of foreplay, I think I have a headache." 

His fingers slip between the small gap in crossed silk layers until he finds the familiar warmth of gold skin, feels Dongho's chuckle under his palm before it can reach his ears.

"But you're sexy when you're cleaning." Dongho grins, hands shifting to rest atop the grip around his waist.

"I'm sexy all the time." Minhyun corrects, swaying Dongho in his arms. This time, the other's body molds perfectly to his rhythm, following his lead even as he makes them take the steps to the bedroom across the hall. Against the wall their melded shadows are perfect, and it’s with anticipation that Minhyun releases Dongho from his grip, knowing that soon, it won’t only be their shadows connecting.

"Oh, I don't know about that." Dongho pours himself confidently over the sheets, laying on his side among the scattered petals. "You might have to prove it?"

The lit candles in here are fewer, Minhyun notes, the abandoned matches scattered on the bedside table. It's darkness tinged with amber and draped in a slip of red silk which invites him onto the bed, his eyes nowhere else. He doesn't need the glow of a candle to guide him to the fit of Dongho's lips against his own, nor a flame to feel heat bleeding across his skin as he pulls soft moans free from the trembling body beneath him.

He doesn't need three hundred candles on a night with his husband to make it special;

he only needs him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk about this...but ty prompter i hope you liked it.. ;; tysm for reading! comments&kudos are always appreciated


	6. with my best friend | RenBaek, JBaek (T)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty to the 3 prompters who all picked 'dealing with children'! hope you like!

-

It should have been awkward. 

_“You like him too, don’t you.”_

But after this many years, there weren’t many things that Jonghyun could hide from his best friend. He had tried to, of course. Kept his distance the moment he realised that the feelings growing inside had shifted far beyond the simple ‘crush’ boundary and had leapt free as though a desperate rabbit from the fanged hinges of a snake’s jaw, scurrying into the open. The beat of his heart could no longer be ignored whenever the other was nearby - the very much taken, the very much oblivious other. 

And now Mingi had laid the snare.

Jonghyun should have expected it was coming, too. He was usually good at picking up such things because Mingi, as inscrutable as his thought processes remained to him despite two decades of friendship ( _sometimes_ , Jonghyun thought, _Mingi didn't really know where his own thoughts came from either, and he was his own origin)_ , was always obvious in his moods.

The mood that night was odd. Quiet lingered, a budding malignance under the surface of darkness in their shared apartment (not unwelcome either, Jonghyun's DPS was out of control in the battlegrounds tonight without the constant racket of too much bickering or laughter). 

He had ignored it for a while. Mingi got into moods and they were usually a bit lower when his boyfriend wasn't around. It wasn't unusual.

It was the fact that Mingi was sitting in the same room as him. Without speaking or trying to engage his attention for three whole hours. 

Their apartment was tiny; the distance between the little coffee table, their tv, and their couch could all be surpassed in a single step.

That evening, the distance between himself on the floor in front of the table, fingers furiously clicking and tapping on his laptop and Mingi, curled up on the couch with his phone in hand, felt as wide as the horizon. Every second in those hours of silence were outstretched beyond their limits. Jonghyun could, if he concentrated, sense the tension.

He concentrated on his game. 

Mingi concentrated on...something. His phone maybe. 

Jonghyun wasn't looking. The red numbers on his screen continued to stack up, his own name highlighted in his team for topping the damage score. He was in the zone. Then,

"Jonghyun?" 

The red numbers faltered. His fingers clicked faster. It wasn't over yet. All he needed to do was kill that one idiot mage hiding behind the tank-

"What."

"Dongho's going to come over in an hour. He's on his way."

Onscreen, Jonghyun watched as his character jolted, helpless against forked turquoise bolts penetrating his body. That was it. He was trapped. Yellow numbers ticked the rolling damage count, mounting, accumulating, destroying. He'd even seen it was coming, had tried to avoid, could see the casting animation (could sense it in Mingi's making no attempts to lighten the atmosphere) - yet he'd simply sat there and taken it.

"I think we should talk." said Mingi.

Jonghyun's index finger tapped on the keyboard. He couldn't do anything. He couldn't even respawn until his character took all the damage dealt.

"Now?" 

"What, you're so busy?" Mingi scoffed, leaning towards the screen. "Are those your lightning-"

"I don't play mages." He liked playing rogues; swift ambushers, the ones you couldn't see coming until the killing strike had you incapacitated. 

"Then you're dead." Mingi was right, the yellow numbers above the character were writing Jonghyun's obituary. 

"I'm still alive." 

"Uh, you're not moving." 

"I'll respawn soon. I'm in the middle of a match." They still had a chance to win, he could-

"Well, when Dongho gets here, we're going noraebang." Mingi announced. 

"Have fun." Jonghyun muttered, knowing they would. He could see it now: Mingi noisy, full of energy and sweetened soju, Dongho only remembering to drink his coke if the glass was forced into his hand and the microphone taken away (twinkling eyes sparkling like the floating ice cubes, fingers heating Jonghyun's knuckles in the transfer, the half-yelled, half murmured _'thanks, Jonghyun-ah_ ' in his ear that shocked pleasurably down his spine).

"He asked if you're coming with."

A small, bitter chuckle leapt out before he could grab it back; the jackrabbit under his ribs thumped furiously, begging to be freed, only the snake wasn't done yet, and was letting it struggle a little longer.

Jonghyun swallowed the next sound down and shook his head. Onscreen, his character twitched pathetically under unending lightning strikes.

"No thanks, don't feel like babysitting you two tonight." 

Because that was what it felt like every time; he could see it, how their future would unfold just as surely as he could tell the accumulating damage would kill his character and his team was going to lose this battle (he's lost, and he's tired, so fucking _tired_ of losing). It was sickening, as though oversweet bite of too much sugar had gnawed off his tongue, seeing his best friend Mingi sitting in the booth, cherub face flushed from the alcohol and intermittent kisses while his boyfriend Dongho sang sappy love songs to him, the screen, the ceiling, hell even the stars 

(but not to anyone else, never, even if that person was waiting for just a glimpse and dumbly handing him a glass and reminding him to drink or his throat will be sore tomorrow, _take it easy, Dongho-yah_ )

and Jonghyun didn't feel like sitting through it. Not even with the knowledge that at the end of the night, the drive home would be spectacular. 

Just the night air whipping through the crack in the car window, Dongho next to him, humming at the steering wheel while Mingi slept on the backseat. In that hour, Jonghyun could let the tiny rabbit in his chest free to roam among the sweet fragrance of Dongho's cheerful stories. Let it jump ( _so high, when did it grow so strong)_ when Dongho giggled, pushing his arm when Jonghyun teased him. And shove it back into its bony cage when Dongho and Mingi disappeared behind the closed door of Mingi's bedroom, and Jonghyun had to put on his noise cancelling headphones.

Yeah, he wasn't in the mood for babysitting these two idiots, stupidly in love with each other.

"You never want to go with us anymore." Mingi shifted on the couch, knees turning towards Jonghyun, pressing gently between his shoulders. "You can't just stay home all the time."

"I go to work. I see my friends." The game was continuing, only a few yellow numbers to go before he could respawn. Jonghyun bit down on his bottom lip.

The silence stretched out. Jonghyun broke it only with the impatient tap of keys. He was stuck. Motionless.

"Is it because of Dongho?" Too gently, too sharply, Mingi's question cut deep.

"What do you mean?" His teeth pressed harder, air pushing through the small gap between his lips. Turquoise light faltered onscreen.

“You like him too, don’t you.” It wasn't a question.

Jonghyun's character dropped into the dirt, dead. No trace of blood. No movement. _Finally_. A popup jumped in the centre of the screen, asking if he wanted to continue. _'Yes or No?'_

It should have been awkward. 

He shouldn't have had to even stop to consider his response. But it was tempting, so tempting, and Mingi didn't sound angry, or upset.

Just quiet. 

"Sure, he's a good guy." Jonghyun muttered, "and you two're a good couple."

Mingi let out a quiet sigh. "Well, alright. But you'd tell me right? If something was bothering you, wouldn't you?" 

"Yeah," Jonghyun turned, smiled. Maintained it when Mingi looked at him long and considering. "You guys have fun tonight." 

"Ok." Mingi looked back down at the phone cradled in his hands, so Jonghyun returned to his game, staring down the popup.

_‘Do you want to continue?’_

The mouse hovered uncertainly under his palm. 

"Hey, Jonghyun.."

"What?" 

"You know, Dongho likes you too."

Jonghyun shifted, index finger pressing down.

_'Yes'_

-


	7. and when you touch me baby, i turn red | JBaek (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps his faith in him is unfounded, and maybe he's being foolish like they all told him he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does love count as a prompt? if so, then ty prompter.
> 
> !warnings for blood, death!

-

He doesn't expect the "no."

It lands like spit on his face, defiant eyes staring him down even as the other is on his knees.

"But why not?" Dongho crouches down slowly, arms circling his legs as he maintains eye contact.

Aron always said that you couldn't take your eyes off these things or they'd fuck you up in a blink, no mercy. Dongho doesn't know if that's really true for this one - he knows they kill, of course. He’s not naive; he's _seen_ them kill, bears his own scars from encounters - but he isn't willing to test their limits either.

In the barred cage, a tanned back is shown instead of a spoken reply. Flickering lamp light makes the ink-slathered marks skin spin in sensual swirls, a dance of the damned attracting Dongho's attention far more than he knows he'd be allowed, if any of the others were here in the bunker. 

But they're not, it's just the two of them, so he inches closer to the silver bars.

"Come on," Dongho tries again, "it's not that bad, is it? And once you agree, they'll set you free."

Finally, another reaction is given - it's a sharp, barking laugh, dead of joy, head thrown back, and Dongho knows he shouldn't be staring Aron warned him Mingi warned him especially after what happened to Minhyun-

-but he's looking, and it's as the legends say:

they really are the most beautiful of monsters.

"You really think I will fall for that?" The other asks, wide shoulders settling down, as though the strain of laughing with two breaths had stolen what was left of his soul.

"I'm not trying to trick you!" Dongho grits his teeth, moves closer. "I know they hurt you-"

"Hurt me?" Another spit in the face but this time those ferocious eyes stay on him, watch every motion he makes. "Your little boyfriend shot me five times." Tanned fingers tap at a bullet-ridden chest. The healing holes are scattered, an awkward, lopsided spray like an exhausted smile dragged across unwilling muscles. 

"You bit him!" Dongho doesn't know why the first words that had risen to his lips were ' _Minhyun's not my boyfriend'_ ; he's lucky that the other ones manage to squeeze past instead. 

"I did, and if you let me out of here," Sharp fangs glint, elongated pearls stretching a grin impossibly wider, "I'll tear apart every single one of them. Limb from limb, I'll peel every strip of their sinew one by one until they're-"

"Jonghyun-" Dongho bites too, a harsh sob. "Please, this isn't you-" 

Cool metal soothes his palms even as he wrings the silver bars. Centimetres away, the other man in the cage leans forward. He wears a face that used to be familiar to Dongho, to all of them; gentle, intelligent eyes, a sweet smile that would call him to every morning to wake him up. Every touch between them for the last five years had been fire - anger, need, desire, comfort; it’s heat Dongho thinks of, remembers too well. 

Now the hands that reach out and cover his own are ice; the breath tickling his lips mists between them.

"You keep calling me that name, do I look like him that much?" Jonghyun murmurs. 

The tips of his fangs disappear beneath the clouds of his breath, grazing the curve of his bottom lip, kissing the curves of Dongho's trembling voice as it dips softly.

"You're in there somewhere, I _know_ you are..please.." 

Perhaps his faith is unfounded, and maybe he's being foolish like they all told him he was. That it was time to end this and let him go- the man they once knew.

Because that man was dead.

But when cool lips press against his mouth, Dongho sighs Jonghyun's name.

and when his warm blood dribbles down his neck, stains his chest, stains the dirt and the cold silver jail and a grinning, ravenous mouth,

it's still only Jonghyun's face he sees.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading!


	8. counting (on you) | #JBaek (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The numbers didn't lie, and Jonghyun had counted every single one when it came to Kang Dongho. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something light for my fave ddhwbugi bcs dongho fluff is deserved and necessary rn ;; take care of yourselves, everyone

-

  
  


There were two cracks in the ceiling.

One had been there since the day he moved into this lonely shoebox apartment. His best friend, Dongho, who had been the only one to help all day with the boxes, had pointed it out. It lined the west wall just above the window with spidery fractures that webbed down to the wooden frame and absorbed a fragment of the sunset every night. Jonghyun knew there were exactly twenty-five legs on this cracked spider but only two caught the sunlight.

The other had been added more recently. It splintered from a concave smashed against the flimsy plaster - just a small slip of a hand on drinking night when it had seemed such a great idea to play some indoor 'baseball' with his friends. Aron, his American-Korean friend, had been keen to play the moment their mutual friend Mingi drunkenly insisted they try; and between all five of them, it was deemed worth a few rounds to make Aron feel like he was 'at home'. 

“I never even played baseball,” Aron had laughed, loud, too loud while his gaze on Mingi was too soft, "I played basketball, you idiot.”

“It's the same thing, balls and whatever. We're playing!” Mingi insisted, stumbling off the futon as he crawled over to a miscellaneous pile of Jonghyun's stuff in the corner. Beside him, their other friend Minhyun shot Jonghyun a look - disapproving, and Jonghyun grinned at him unrepentantly, tipping the edge of his beer can in salute. Minhyun was a very easy going guy, but there were three things he hated and mess was one of them. It wasn't his place, Jonghyun thought, so he could suck it up for a single party. “-ah where's a ball-” 

While Minhyun and Mingi searched for something resembling a ball, Jonghyun was waving off his best friend Dongho to roll up some old magazines as a bat. Unlike Aron, Dongho never needed an invitation to get pulled into one of Mingi's ridiculous ideas. As one of the only two sober men in their gathering, it seemed likely that to him it should have been obvious there was no space for such a game.

But with the ball being a pair of rolled up socks - (“they're clean, Minhyun,” Jonghyun drawled following a suspicious glance, “then why aren't they packed away, Jonghyun?” Minhyun had shot back) - and the bat being a wad of glossy paper, it should have been fine. 

And the game was great. No one followed the rules, the bases were corners of the centred futon, and more than once they all slipped on their kneeling shuffles around the bases and hit their chins on the carpet. Mingi yanked a base-marker (one of Dongho's forgotten gym shirts, the man was as disorganised as Jonghyun was untidy) from under Aron's knees and a shouting match ensued,

"Yah Mingi, I was there you can't-"

"It's in the rules! I read it you can steal a base!"

and Jonghyun, ignoring them, pitched.

Dongho swung, Minhyun stood up to catch it (“foul! foul! you've gotta stay on your knees!” Jonghyun pointed at him) and slipped on the corner of the futon, and there was a heavy thud as the material smashed into the cheap ceiling.

The sound was instantly sobering.

"Oh shit- Jonghyun sorry-" Dongho gasped, worriedly looking up at the new crack in the ceiling.

"It's fine." Jonghyun was peeved, he was drunk, but Dongho wasn't either of those things so Jonghyun convinced himself that Dongho should have known better.

The gathering had flaked as quickly as the trickling plaster. 

"Sorry Jonghyun," Aron had looked sheepish, and Mingi nodded.

"It's ok," Minhyun said as he gathered his things, smiling when Jonghyun glared in confusion because it was not fucking ok, he had to fix it, "it was just Dongho's fault."

Dongho paled, and Mingi slapped Minhyun's arm as they walked out, telling him not to pick on Dongho, "But I'm not," Minhyun protested, and Jonghyun could hear the three down the hall even as they left the apartment, "It's Dongho, so Jonghyun'll get over it quick." 

Jonghyun snorted, because even if that was true, Minhyun was still an idiot. He was glad to have the apartment almost to himself again, while Dongho, who had driven alone, lingered nervously and helped tidy up.

"Just go home, Dongho-yah." Jonghyun snapped eventually. The other was thumbing at something on his phone - probably a text message from Minhyun, Jonghyun thought- and jerked when he was spoken to. 

Even as he'd pulled away the covers to the futon and had his eyes on the west window, Jonghyun could hear the sound of slumped shoulders, stress-bitten lips.

"..but you're angry."

"There's a crack in my ceiling, yeah." And sure there was already a crack there but it was before his time here, see, it was different. He was liable for this one. "I gotta pay for it-"

"No you won't." Dongho whined. "I'm paying for it. I did it."

"We all did it. Go home, Dongho." Jonghyun settled down on the pillow, head fuzzy as the discarded socks at the foot of his futon. 

"..can't I stay?" 

Jonghyun had known Dongho for years and years; he was more than used to the kicked puppy routine that his best friend had innocently perfected when he was in trouble. If it wasn't so innocent, Jonghyun probably would have kicked him out.

"Are you gonna stop whining?" Jonghyun muttered, already shifting over on his futon to make space for the larger blond man. 

Dongho was crawling over to him faster than he'd been in the 'baseball' game as he answered, "Wasn't whining..I feel bad. I'll get someone to fix it tomorrow."

"Or," Jonghyun nudged half of his pillow for Dongho to take, felt the warmth of muscle and breath just beside his shoulder as the other curled up next to him, "you can get  _ someone  _ to shut up now, and go to sleep."

"M'kay.." Dongho settled, breathing already dropping to an even pace. Under the covers, a small hand sought his own. "Sorry, Jonghyun-ah."

Under the fragmented plaster and a forgiving smile lost to the darkness, Jonghyun's hand squeezed back and didn’t let go, "sleep." 

-

Jonghyun awoke the next day with a fuzzy head, another crack in the ceiling, and someone in his arms.

He blinked his eyes open, fingers unlacing immediately and tried to lift his head from the pillow. 

It was pretty normal to see Dongho there, blond hair on the edge of Jonghyun's collarbone, the other's face tucked into the crook of his arm. 

Normally it'd be Dongho clinging to someone in his sleep. 

Jonghyun wanted to pretend it was shocking that this time, it was he who had been holding on to his best friend throughout the night. It wasn't. Not even a little.

Instead of getting up, Jonghyun laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Counted the twenty-five legs of the fractured spider. Counted the sixteen new cracks around the crater, the hairline tendrils snaking towards the eastern wall as though seeking the risen sun.

Counted the two hundred and thirty five lashes on Dongho's right eye when he moved and resettled on Jonghyun's chest. Counted the twelve hundred and sixty four soothing strokes he ran down the steep slope and hill of Dongho's waist with his fingertips. 

And lost all the numbers in his head that he'd held for two hours when Dongho stirred, eyes opening. Like that, the only crack Jonghyun cared about was the one in his own lips that curled in an answering smile.

"Morning?"

"Morning." Jonghyun confirmed. "You getting up?"

"Tired..." Dongho shut his eyes again.

"Hey, hey, you can't go back to sleep."

"But I'm tired." His voice was muffled against Jonghyun's arm. 

"And I want to get up." 

"Then get up."

"I can't when you're pinning me." Jonghyun wriggled meaningfully, and Dongho obediently rolled away on the futon until the tip of his nose was squashed against the eastern wall. 

Jonghyun sighed, stifling a laugh, and pulled his shoulder until Dongho laid flat on his back against the pillow. 

It was five minutes later that Dongho's lips moved. His eyes were still closed. "`thought you wanted to get up."

"I was busy."

"Mm..?"

"Counting the cracks in the ceiling." 

Dongho scoffed at him, eyes opening and turned to look at Jonghyun. He started slightly but didn't move away, when he realised that his nose was as close to Jonghyun's as it had been to the eastern wall before. 

"Jonghyun..." Softly, as though afraid to break anything again, he whispered.

"What?" Jonghyun didn't move, laying with his breath caught in his chest. 

"I.." A pretty flush began to blister Dongho's cheeks and forehead, similar to the one Jonghyun had last night after a few drinks, and exactly like the one he had when his best friend had first introduced himself when they'd been classmates nine years ago. 

"Want to get up?" Jonghyun pretended to be oblivious to it, to himself.

It had worked for eight years. But he couldn't pretend forever. The numbers didn't lie, and Jonghyun had counted every single one when it came to Kang Dongho. 

It took a long pause before a reply breathed against his lips. "..no."

"Then?"

Dongho's lips were downturned, his brow creasing. "Are you still mad?"

Damn Minhyun for being right, Jonghyun thought as he searched for his previous annoyance that had probably escaped somewhere between lashes count six and seven. "Are you still upset?"

"Only if you're mad." Dongho said quietly.

"Then you're not upset." Jonghyun told him.

The words sank in and Jonghyun watched it all - the quick flutter of five hundred and forty one lashes, the single breath pause, the single sigh of relief against his chin, air flowing down his throat. Dongho grinned. "I swear I'll pay for it, just tell me how much I owe-"

"Don't worry," Jonghyun said, and when he moved carefully, edging over on the shared pillow, waiting and testing to see if Dongho moved away - but Dongho didn't, not this time; he was waiting for him, had been for nine years - he now breathed into him, sighed as Jonghyun kissed him gently, "No one's counting." 

  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! comments&kudos always really appreciated


	9. i'm not usually like this (but i like what you're doing to me) | MinRon (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hwang Minhyun does not get nervous.
> 
> Sure, sometimes he felt that strange, bubbling giddiness that often stumbled out from his lips in halted jerks of laughter.
> 
> Sometimes his palms would grow clammy or his heart might beat a little faster in his chest. 
> 
> But the moments those reactions happened were so rare in his life, Minhyun thought very little of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minhyun might not get nervous but i sure as hell do omg
> 
> pls be gentle with my minron debut bcs idk wtf im doing here im lost im just a simple ddhw ok ;;;;;;;;;
> 
> (and look if i might have added something in somewhere maybe it just happened maybe i have no self control in that one particular area)

-

Hwang Minhyun does not get nervous.

Sure, sometimes he felt that strange, bubbling giddiness that often stumbled out from his lips in halted jerks of laughter (usually at the most inappropriate of times too, like the first time he received a confession after school- he didn't want to date her, he didn't even _know_ her - but he hadn't meant to laugh in her face, it just happened and then she was running away before he could explain he actually liked-).

Sometimes his palms would grow clammy or his heart might beat a little faster in his chest. That had happened when his acceptance letter arrived; SNU was the first choice but he'd fucked up on the Chem final despite his science tutor being the most patient person in the world, drilling facts into his mind with a constant praise and a bright smile. 

He'd tore open the envelope after his sister asked what he was staring at, and then everything was fine; he jumped on the phone to his tutor, _'hyung I made it I'm going!_ '. Accidently dropped the phone because his hands were too sweaty, because his heart was fluttering at the sound of happy laughter coming through the receiver.

But the moments those reactions happened were so rare in his life, Minhyun thought very little of it.

"That's your problem," His best friend, the one who knows him inside out is Jonghyun, and he's always said, "you never really think about anything, do you?" 

"Hey, he does!" Dongho, his childhood friend, is only ever two beats behind anything anyone has to say about Minhyun, jumping up to defend him. "Just because we don't understand, doesn't mean he doesn't.."

"Pretty sure that's because he's not on the same wavelength as anyone on this planet." Mingi, his long-time neighbour, is unbothered but forever amused by Minhyun's behaviour. 

"That's what makes him so unique." Aron is the one who just laughs, runs an affectionate hand through Minhyun's hair if he's within reach - and if he's not, Minhyun helps by leaning over to bridge the gap to lay down. Usually gets Mingi rolling his eyes at him or Jonghyun laughing or Dongho sighing whenever he does it, but that doesn't matter to Minhyun.

And maybe Jonghyun is a little right because he really doesn't think - about their reactions, or much else. He just settles comfortably and tilts his chin up, back of his neck cradled by the slim curve of Aron's thigh, and expects long fingers to filter through his hair. 

"Cute," Aron tells him, and the group's conversation will continue, interspersed with the barking laughter Minhyun can't contain when the fingers in his hair are still from distraction. 

He could lay there all day, actually has - in Aron's lap. Holds his hand and grabs it when he can, falls asleep sometimes, only to be shoved awake, "Yah, give me a break I can't carry you-" Aron complains that night, moving his knees until Minhyun opens his eyes. 

"Why not?" From here, it's a great vantage spot. 

He never wants to move. Minhyun can see the tip of Aron's nose, the long strokes of dark eyelashes, the delicate peaks of pink lips. His own arms are long enough that he could reach up from here and cup the back of Aron's neck - he considers it.

The fit would be just like his own against the other's thigh: a sweet honeycomb of skin and muscle, and if they fit like that, then what if they _moved_ \- he considers that, too. Wouldn't they be like dripping molasses, Aron's careful, gradual touches over his body, trembling with heat even as he takes it slow, their breathing sticking to their lungs, gazes glued to one another as each moment brought them to a sloping edge Minhyun was ready to fall from, if only the other was there to catch him.

( _Jonghyun's a little wrong_ , Minhyun decides, _and Dongho's more right_ ; he _does_ think, but maybe not in the way others understand-)

  
  


Minhyun licks his dry lips - it tastes like sweat (why is he sweating? why are his palms clammy?) - but he thinks Aron's probably will taste like citron and soju - and that thought makes him laugh. 

Pitchy. Gasping. Awkward.

"What's so funny?" Aron laughs along even if he frowns a bit first, and Minhyun's glad about that because he'd _hate_ if Aron thought he was laughing at him (he'd chase Aron to the bleachers though, not just stand and dumbly watch orange pigtails bounce out of view until Dongho went and apologised for him to help her stop crying - and that was ok in high school but he'd die of embarrassment if Dongho had to do that now with their hyung, if seeing Aron cry wouldn't kill him first).

"You." Minhyun reaches up to point at him, pokes the tip of his nose instead.

"Me?" Aron nudges the touch aside, leans down. Tilts his head to the side, "what did I do?"

Another pitchy laugh gurgles at the back of Minhyun's throat. It's lodged at his nape, held in place by the press of Aron's thigh. 

Now it's his heart that's doing something strange. Minhyun shifts his other hand from his side to rest it on his chest and check for palpitations.

Halfway in the motion, long fingers slip between his own; like they always do whenever Minhyun reaches for him. He pauses. Twists his fingers until Aron's are flush between them.

"I don't know-" The words burst out instead of a laugh thank _God_ , Minhyun thinks, because Aron's face is too close to laugh at. Too close but he wants it closer, "You just always make me laugh." 

"Do I?" Aron blinks quickly before frowning, "in a good way?"

Minhyun nods. Frantically. His tongue catches between his teeth and he winces. The palpitations grow worse. Blood thuds in his ears (that's new) and the beat is heavy but he feels light. 

Aron frowns, bites his bottom lip - _he's nervous_ , Minhyun realises, and he laughs now because why would his hyung be nervous, there's nothing to be nervous about, it's just the two of them here, the other three have gone home...

  
  
  


Turns out, Minhyun does get nervous.

Not as bad or as obviously as his friends do-

but when he's nervous, his hands sweat more than when Dongho does in summer and Jonghyun's inviting him to go for a swim together ( _'you can't swim, Jonghyun, what are you_ -' Mingi shuts up after Jonghyun kicks him under the table, glares at Aron because Aron's on his other side ' _what was that for_?').

When he's nervous, Minhyun laughs just as loud as Mingi watching a bad horror flick, mocking the actors onscreen for missing the orange acrylic blood dripping obviously from the ceiling above them.

\- and worst of all, his heartbeat staggers like sudden roars of thunder lurching behind flashes of purple lightning. The palpitations are so raw, so powerful that his entire chest ripples with motion, it's hard to swallow, harder to breathe. 

But luckily, Minhyun doesn't get nervous often.

Really, it was just a problem that night when Aron tried to kiss him. 

Minhyun had laughed nervously against his lips and they bumped noses; Aron hit his knee on the table reflexively jerking back. Accidentally kicked him off his lap, and Minhyun banged his shoulder on the floor.

The first kiss was a bit of a disaster.

By the second one, Minhyun didn't know what the word 'nervous' even meant.

And he wanted to make sure Aron didn't know either. 

It didn't warrant a single thought.

All his thoughts were on Aron melting against him, the tang of citron and soju and the comfort of cool fingers and loving eyes.

-

Though maybe the laughter came out one time after that- just once- 

"What's so funny?" Aron purrs against his vibrating throat.

Shaking his head against the pillow, Minhyun reaches up and tugs him closer. "Thinking."

"Oh?"

"Molasses." 

Aron blinks, a low gasp escaping his lips when Minhyun shifts but he manages, "I don't get you."

"Mm, but it makes me unique." 

and like any other time Minhyun laughs, thankfully Aron just laughs along with him.

  
  
  
  
  


-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a first for me so any kudos/comments are really appreciated ;; tysm for reading!


	10. freefalling | BaekRon (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongho stands on the edge.
> 
> Aron stands with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like this belongs in what is going to become an inevitable series on a particular topic im very passionate about
> 
> anw this is just a drabble...
> 
> (and ofc there's another pairing in there; you don't even have to squint tbh.)

-

He’s never done it before but that’s not what scares him.

“Come on, Dongho, it’s not that bad.”

Dongho nods, peeks over the edge of the platform. The height is dizzying. Below and as far as he can see, the featherlight heads of sleepy trees nod to the beat of the passing wind. A lazy river snakes below, curled up and glistening under the heat of the sun.

He holds tighter to the trestle of ropes, squeezes the fibres. Squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t think...” 

Across the distance, he can see the others waiting. Mingi had been the first to go, and before he’d followed Jonghyun had given Dongho a little squeeze on the shoulder, “Not gonna wait all day, Dongho-ah.” Minhyun had coolly strode of the edge, as if he were born to fly and the tethers were merely hindrances instead of ensuring he wasn’t devoured by the glittering river waiting below. Dongho had watched him until Minhyun was no more than a blond speck streaming through the air. He ached to follow his best friend with the same confidence.

But his feet stay still.

Next to him, Dongho feels the air shift as Aron speaks. “Yeah, don’t.”

“Huh-“ He takes a breath, shuddering between a terrified smile.

“Don’t think,” Aron repeats, and his long fingers carefully pry off each clenching digit from the rope, even as Dongho whines and resists ‘no no I’m-‘, “just go.”

“Aron-“ Dongho reaches for the rope. He could have yanked it back easily from the other, he didn’t even have to let go and Aron couldn’t have stopped him. The only person in their group who could have forced him over the edge was already on the other side of the ziplining platform and told him not to keep him waiting.

When Dongho turns back to the edge, the summer breeze feels so much stronger, wilder, and the world feels bigger and the sky too close, their friends so far beyond reach-

-and Aron’s gentle hand fills the emptiness in his palm.

“Be right behind you.”

Dongho takes a breath. Takes a step. Falls into the air.

Releases Aron’s hand, body flying along the suspended ropes with the scenery a blur around him, too soon straight into the welcome of Mingi’s cheers and Jonghyun’s grip and Minhyun’s smile.

There’s only a few seconds before Aron is back at his side, cheeks flushed, grinning, and slips his hand back into Dongho’s. His voice is breathless with excitement, his deep laughter echoing between the mountains they leave behind, “How was it? Not scary right?”

Dongho glances down at their interlaced fingers, feels the casual swipe of Aron’s thumb over the top of his palm.

The ziplining was fine but _this_ ,

Dongho looks up at his hyung and beams.

“Just like flying.”

As Aron laughs and they walk together to return to solid ground, joined hands swinging between them comfortably, Dongho’s certain of it

that somewhere even higher than where they’d just been

his heart’s still soaring.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! any comments&kudos are always appreciated!


	11. i call your name | JBaek (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jonghyun seeks the quiet, the city lights, and his best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy.. so this happened. ty prompter for the 'pet names' prompt!

-

"Jonghyunnie...?"

He turns to the sound of his name when it breaks the silence. Beside him, the view is barely one-eighth of his best friend's face, turned away from him. A small sliver, yet every feature from amber eyes to the downturned lips somehow exudes so much of what the other is thinking, that Jonghyun quickly turns away. 

"Yeah?" 

Below, beyond the limits of the balcony, the city lights hum in frenzied harmony. Behind them, the bustling hall is as light as day with the cheerful diamond sheen of dozens of chandeliers. A string symphony mingles with hundreds of chattering voices and clinking champagne glasses. 

Jonghyun’s fingers tighten around the guardrail. Cold gnaws at the back of his neck, muscles straining into what he knows is already becoming a migraine to survive tomorrow. It’s a pain he can handle; dim the lights, shut his eyes, take some meds, sleep if his neighbour manages to keep the guard dogs quiet for even an hour. What he would give for some quiet right now. The strings grate on his nerves, as do the meaningless conversations he’s endured since he arrived. The wind is stronger up this high, roaring in his ears. 

“Do you ever wish...?” There’s a shift of motion, of his best friend rubbing his wrist, as if the joint was aching from the cold. 

The wind is quieter than the blood hammering past his eardrums. 

“Dongho.” Jonghyun looks out to the lights, traces their scattered lanes with his eyes. “I don’t think now is a good time.” 

“Hm.” His best friend snorts, shoulders raising as his head sinks down and the black lapels cut sharp lines of shadow against his defined jaw. Dongho’s hand continues to twist back and forth, fingers massaging his exposed skin just above his jacket cuff. 

For a moment, Jonghyun hesitates, words balancing on the curve of his bottom lip. His tongue flicks out, licks them away. Swallows them to join the others simmering in his gut since this morning. His neck muscles twinge in protesting pain at the motion but it’s for the best. It’s a pain he can handle. Tomorrow. It will hit tomorrow.

Silently, he looks at Dongho. Half of his best friend’s face is shown now in the low light of the moon, drenching the gold palette of his skin into a sickly white as though all the blood had been drained from his veins. It isn’t right, it just _isn’t_ and Jonghyun can’t swallow the words this time when they resurface - they’re too bitter, he needs to spit them out. His left foot swerves in the direction of falling moonlight, the tip of his leather shoes a compass needle that his left hand shifts to obey and stretches across the iron guardrail. The subtle hiss of metal grates against metal under his motion. The sound stops as suddenly as it starts when Dongho looks down at Jonghyun’s left hand pausing centimetres away from his forearm. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Dongho’s head jerks in an awkward nod. He brings in his wrist close to his chest, cradles it tender as a newborn and steps away from the guardrail. “Now isn’t, I shouldn’t’ve-”

“-baby I _told_ you-” His voice sounds foreign to himself, deeper, hoarser, that Jonghyun doesn’t recognise the notes even as it flits over the windy balcony. 

The nickname however, and the way Dongho tenses at the sound of it, that’s familiar. It had been a night like this one, he remembers, that first time, and perhaps Dongho remembers it too. 

Jonghyun hopes he does. 

The lights had been beautiful, the world around them quiet, quiet enough that he could hear every breath, every pulse of Dongho’s heart against his chest. The night air had been frigid outside of the limousine but so warm inside and the other in his arms had been shivering uncontrollably, begging to be held tighter, ‘ _Jonghyunnie_ please _don’t stop’._ He’d held on, god he’d held on for as long as he could, gripping Dongho’s thrashing hands and pinning their words between the frantic flow of their lips, ‘ _baby my baby I love y-’_

“-don’t.” Dongho falters. The clear moonlight can’t smooth the lines in his forehead and the creases at the corner of his lips so Jonghyun steps forward to do it himself the only way he knows how, right hand reaching for Dongho’s wrist. “Jonghyunnie please _don’t_ -”

“Dongho, _baby_ ,” The words start to drip free. They feel warm, wet against Jonghyun’s face, trickling down somewhere at the tip of his chin. They dangle there, just like the beads of the sparkling city lights behind him rippling with light like the rivulets of sweat over a golden chest that heaved with pleasure, with the call of his nickname, “I love-”

“Jonghyun-ah?” A call echoes over the noise from inside, slim figure silhouetted by the glare of the chandeliers. 

Jonghyun’s left hand curls around the guardrail. He wants to be rid of it all - the sound, the lights, and the distance that is growing as Dongho straightens up and walks towards the approaching figure.

His own grip locks him in place.

“So this is where you've been hiding?” The newcomer turns and drags a gracious hand down Dongho’s arm in casual affection the moment he’s close enough. Jonghyun bristles even though it’s normal, it’s always been like this. Three best friends, _‘the three musketeers_ ’, Mingi liked to call them since grade school, except in this world two were for one and one couldn’t be shared by all. “Thanks for finding him for me Dongho-yah. I was looking everywhere and it’s almost time for the speeches.” 

“Sure Mingi,” Dongho smiles, laughs even, and Jonghyun barely keeps his cool when his best friend throws a glance at him, “not gonna let him get out of it when I had to listen to him reciting it a thousand times this week in the car and the hotel.” 

“You whinge but you were the one who volunteered.” Jonghyun argues, pleading at Dongho with his eyes to stay. _You inspired it all._

In fits of rebellion he’d bounced torn pages of half-written vows against the wall, he’d screamed until he was hoarse down the receiver at his parents while Dongho drove him around on errands - fittings, tastings, placements and last minute decor viewings, “ _Call it off, there has to be another way_ ” - but in the end, Jonghyun had woken up alone this morning as he had every day since the engagement was announced. All that greeted him on the pillow was a crinkled page that started with one hand and finished with the familiar messiness of another’s. 

“Yeah, cause if I didn’t you were gonna mess it up and say something stupid instead.” Dongho meets his gaze, stare lingering like a caress that Jonghyun longs to reach for. Then the other turns back to Mingi and the smile on his lips is soft even if there’s no light. _For Mingi_ , Jonghyun thinks bitterly, _you can smile_ _but not for me._ “It’s gonna be beautiful, you’ll love it.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Mingi raises his eyebrows at Jonghyun but he grins as he passes Dongho and stops to stand at the edge of the balcony. He slips his delicate hands around Jonghyun’s left arm, resplendent in his matching tuxedo. The view attracts his attention and he exclaims with a bump to Jonghyun’s side, “Oh, it really is nice out here. And quiet. Tsk, no wonder you like it so much. And here I thought you were avoiding me.”

Moonlight on Mingi is clear as the dawn, highlights the threads of his lilac hair and the coldness pinches a subtle pink on the apples of his cheeks. He’s beautiful for more than just his outward appearance, and Jonghyun knows his parents believe that he would come to love him one day. He did love him, but not for their sake, nor for the happiness of what would be a long life together.

“ _Don’t hurt him, Jonghyunnie,_ ” Dongho had whispered against his lips on the final night - cold too, like this one, and the kiss on Jonghyun’s lips tasted like a goodbye he couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat, “ _love him as much as you love me and make him happy_.”

_But what about our happiness, baby?_

Jonghyun’s shoulders pull back, turning away from the lights, from Mingi pressing against him to look at the retreating figure of Dongho. The gold band of his tie clip drags against the white silk of his shirt. It restricts the flapping tongue of his navy tie close to his chest. His stiff neck twinges in complaint, and there’s pain as he sees the black of Dongho’s hair covered by his chauffeur’s cap as the other re-enters the bustling ballroom.

He opens his mouth to call out.

But the gold band on his left hand restricts the flapping tongue behind his teeth. Mingi shivers against him, quiet, his eyes on the city lights, so Jonghyun wraps an arm around him like Dongho would want him to, and hugs him closer. A mounting migraine makes his vision blur, tears whisked away by the cold wind.

_The pain_ , Jonghyun thinks as he kisses the top of Mingi’s head, _might as well start today_. 

Even if he can't handle it.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading ;; comments&kudos are always very much appreciated!


	12. a little game | 2Hyun (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyun asks politely
> 
> (sometimes, Jonghyun answers)
> 
> (politely)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i know, i KNOW ok be gentle pls i have no idea tf im doing but for my fluffiest cupcake, sometimes, y'mf gotta take the risk and jump ok? 
> 
> happy birthday my dear
> 
> ;; my gift for you

-

Jonghyun is used to Minhyun asking. 

He does it all the time, ever since they were kids. Sometimes he asks with a low whine of his name, often with both hands gently grabbing at Jonghyun's forearm or knee. 

Nearly always with a smile, the one Jonghyun likes most - the one that starts with a subtle tilt at the corner of Minhyun's lips, then widens suddenly in an explosion of white teeth and pure joy after he begins to laugh

as if he knows he's being silly by asking

(but he doesn't care, he's never cared because he knows Jonghyun thinks he's ridiculous, and he loves him anyway)

as if he knows what Jonghyun is going to say.

"Jonghyun-ah," Minhyun's voice is quieter this time, short fingers tugging at the black denim fold over Jonghyun's thigh.

"Hm?" He never looks the first time, no matter how softly his name is spoken

(if he did, the game would be over, and Minhyun knows how much he enjoys games even if he's played it a million times already)

"Let me try--" Hands creep up higher, near Jonghyun's wrists. Trace the outer ridge of the fine bones, a raised vein popping as thumbs tap across four buttons apiece.

"-- I'm nearly done-" Jonghyun leans as though in a swerving car, a mere a passenger knocked over by the collision of Minhyun's side against his own.

With a sharp chin digging lightly into his shoulder, Jonghyun keeps his eyes focussed, his fingers firing, breathing steady-

-until Minhyun asks again,

"Please?"

Right against the nape of his neck, warm breath tickling tanned skin, too close that if it were anyone else, Jonghyun would have ceased to be a passenger long ago and parked himself in another room where he wouldn't be disturbed.

But when Minhyun pouts, Jonghyun sighs.

It's game over.

"I was on a winning streak." Jonghyun tosses the controller into his boyfriend's gleeful grasp.

"Hey!" Minhyun fumbles to collect the coins onscreen, a small frown of concentration creasing his brow and the bow of his lip outwards at the same time, "I'll keep it going- see- ah-"

He doesn't watch the screen (it's painful, seeing all his points go down the drain). He watches instead for the little gasps, the terrified laughter, and the sheepish grin Minhyun shoots him when he spills the controller back into Jonghyun's waiting palms.

"-my bad. Next time-"

"Yeah," Jonghyun rolls his eyes, "no next time."

Except as Minhyun leans in and sneaks a peck to Jonghyun's cheek, folded wrists resting on his shoulder, red hair tickling his jaw and the faintest whiff of patchouli and yuzu kissing the breath Jonghyun inhales, he knows

  
  


the game isn't over.

  
  


_ (next round, Jonghyun kisses him back _

_ “What was that for?” _

_ As if he needs an excuse, Jonghyun shakes his head, grinning, “two can play at that game.”) _

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading!


	13. she's so sweet (like strawberries) | JBaek (G) (genderbent)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fine," Jeohyun bats her eyelashes in an exaggerated way, "then I'm all yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wlw, genderbent!jbaek bcs ♡♡♡
> 
> for my queen.

-

It's been a long, long day, but this wait is the worst for Jeohyun - the changeroom queues, the atm issues, all of that becomes nothing she wouldn't do for her best friend, but it's a relief when Baekha finally steps away from the flirty barista, change and receipt clutched to her chest.

"Oh my god he was so cute did you see him-?" Baekha gushes as she hands over a slip of paper to Jeohyun's hands.

"I was too busy trying to find a bib for your drool." Jeohyun rolls her eyes.

"Whatever, I can look," Baekha shrugs, and Jeohyun _knows_ \- she knows her best friend didn't see how the guy was leaning towards her, how he'd smiled extra shyly, gaze flicking anywhere else to avoid staring at the curves of her ample cleavage covered by a chiffon blouse - and Baekha didn't notice any of it. 

That was her best friend though, and Jeohyun loved every part of her, even the shit that frustrated her. 

Like how she was so observant over the tiniest things (" _Hyunnie did you get your hair trimmed? I can see your eyes better now, so pretty!"; "I've never seen you wear that, gorgeous."; "This what you like right? You got it last time and you said it was really good so I thought I'd get you-")_ but when it came a confession, the woman was a completely oblivious.

It was charming, almost.

Sorta.

Sometimes, Jeohyun needed a lot of patience.

Today was one of those days.

At least now they were taking a break so Baekha can get a strawberry frappe. Jeohyun is definitely ready to sit down, but the cafe is crowded everywhere they look. One frees up but-

"Oh, there's only that one-" Baekha looks for another chair, "Hyuna, you sit-"

Jeohyun _is_ tired from all the shopping, but at least she's worn flats; eyeing Baekha's heels, she knows her best friend wants to sit down, badly, judging by the hopeful amber eyes waiting for her to offer it back.

"Thanks," Jeohyun plonks herself down, settles the heavy paper bags by her ankles. 

"Wow, really didn't even pretend to put up a fight and let me sit." Baekha whines, nudging her leg with her bare knee.

"You offered!" There's time to hide her smirk; Jeohyun doesn't even bother attempting to.

"Yeah but-" Baekha turns to look back at the counter, waiting for her name to be called.

Her pink lip is tucked under her teeth as she tilts her head, trying to see the progress of the tall barista who had taken her order, but the crowd is in the way. Her heels tap in excited impatience as she weaves, the swishing hem of her skirt pleats matching the motion of her long curls. The movement catches Jeohyun's eye even as she reaches out.

"Hyuna do you thi-"

She squeaks as Jeohyun grabs her by the waist and tugs her to sit on her lap. They look an unlikely pair; Jeohyun swimming in her loose blue A&F jumper and skinny jeans, less put together than Baekha's skirt and white blouse combo that their friend gave her last birthday. This close to her and Jeohyun can smell the other's perfume - vanilla and burnt amber, the same as her own, and she takes a deep breath in even if there's no difference between them. 

"Hey, Hyuna!" Baekha scrambles to tug down her rumpled pleats over her thighs, shoulder pressed against Jeohyun's chest as she tries to turn around, "could warn me next time!"

"Nah," Jeohyun grins, resting her cheek between Baekha's shifting shoulderblades as she stares out the door. 

Outside, it's still sunny, the air's warmer, tickles the bare tan legs on top of her own. People are packing the streets preparing for their summer holidays; Jeohyun's is right here, settling against her.

She shuts her eyes.

"Well..fine.." Baekha wriggles, the curve of her butt pressing down on top of Jeohyun's thin thighs in a purposeful dig, "guess your legs being crushed is punishment enough."

Jeohyun wants to say something to that, she _really_ does just like how she'd wanted to pull her away from that barista, but she knows she can't, so she pinches Baekha's outer thigh in retaliation and they laugh even when Baekha pretends to whine instead.

"Mean." Baekha giggles, leaning back until her brown hair fills Jeohyun's vision.

"Only 'cause I love you." Jeohyun can say it easily, means it even more with each day,

she just hopes-

"Coffee for JeoBaek?" The tall barisa calls out.

"Oh!" Baekha jumps up, Jeohyun's hands falling away immediately as her best friend skitters over to the counter.

She watches as Baekha returns with two cups, raising her brows when one is offered to her.

"What did you get?" The plastic is cold, sweats in Jeohyun's palms and as she turns the caramel coloured drink around to inspect the unasked-for order, she sees _'Baek'_ written in neat hangul.

"Hey, Baek isn't this-" She glances at Baekha, whose pink lips are already sealed around her drink straw, strawberry frappe and white cream draining quickly out of the cup.

Her best friend neatly steps around the bags clustered at her feet and sits on Jeohyun's lap again. It's pleasant, natural and Jeohyun's arm aches to wrap around the slender waist in front of her. She holds back instead, unsure.

"Mm?" Baekha stops drinking, remnants of gloss glistening where her mouth had just been.

Jeohyun suddenly feels for the barista - _look anywhere else don't think about that she doesn't even know you like_ -

"That's mine?" Jeohyun manages, pointing out the hangul scrawled in black texta visible between Baekha's blunt nails. 

"Huh?" Baekha glances at the cup where ' _Jeo_ ' stares at her, then laughs. "Nah, I got this one."

_They must have written it wrong by accident,_ Jeohyun tells herself, takes a sip of her favourite caramel cinnamon frappe, and she could have convinced herself of it for a second,

but Baekha taps their cups together and snaps a photo of their hands, their names, 

"See, we match! I'm yours, you're mine! It's cute, right?" Baekha's knuckles are cold against Jeohyun's. Soft, even after so many years of sport. Pretty as the first time Jeohyun had held it back in kindergarten.

"Yeah.." Jeohyun murmurs. The moment a clear photo is taken, she leans forward and grabs her best friend's cup, brings the straw to her mouth and tastes a burst of strawberry and cream. 

"Hey!!"

"What?" She bursts out into laughter as Baekha hits her hip in a half-hearted swat. "It's got my name on it!"

"And that means it's mine." Baekha insists, but she's already trying to grab at Jeohyun's cup, bracelet jangling as it's held out of her reach. "No fair-"

"Too slow." Jeohyun takes a victorious swig of her drink while brown eyes squint at her playfully.

"Stingy." 

"Well, we could share-"

"-nope, I won't!" Baekha pulls _'Jeo'_ close to her chest. The condensation stains her white blouse grey, just above her heart. "I'm keeping it."

She expects retaliation, Jeohyun knows.

Instead, her eyes flutter as her best friend smiles and nods. 

"Ok then, but only if you never share. With anyone."

"Like I would!" Baekha says, clutching the cup tighter, as though it was as precious as the heart that beats behind it. "I got it for me."

"Fine," Jeohyun bats her eyelashes with exaggerated slowness, smile spreading, "then I'm all yours."

"Of course." Baekha takes a sip of her drink, and when she stares shyly at Jeohyun before looking away, Jeohyun can't help the flutter in her chest when her best friend says, "just for me."

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! kudos&comments always much appreciated♡


	14. little comforts | JBaek (M) (nsfw)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongho seeks comfort, and his boyfriend Jonghyun gives it. 
> 
> That's it, that's the plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some plain ol' jbaek funtimes, pure domestic fluff because i needed it ;;

-

"Dongho-ah." He calls his name, a whisper that falls as softly as his touch does over the curve of the thigh splayed over his belly.

"Mm?" The black head of hair laying against his chest shifts - not up to look at him, but burrows down further along Jonghyun's torso, as if to try touching the tip of his nose to his knee. 

_Impossible_ , Jonghyun thinks, snorting as he raises his head up off the pillow, Dongho isn't flexible enough for that. 

"Where're you going?" He knows that he shouldn't be feeling that tug of arousal when his boyfriend was curling up, seeking comfort, but it's an involuntary pull, automatic whenever they were close. 

Caused him a lot of fucking trouble in highschool when they'd sleep over and Jonghyun only had his single bed and was too kind to let the other sleep on the floor. Dongho would cling to him like a limpet, and Jonghyun's only saving grace was that the other slept like the dead, didn't notice him moving unless he tried to get up which--

"Mm." Dongho grunts against his bellybutton. The air tickles, and Jonghyun laughs. Jostles him without meaning to, fingers gently digging into the thigh atop him to keep Dongho from going anywhere. 

Dongho raises his head this time, twists and leans his head back to look at him, "What?"

"You tickled me." Jonghyun holds him tighter.

"I didn't-"

"You did!"

"I-" Then Dongho grins, fucking hell he grins big and wide and it yanks that tug again in Jonghyun's belly, his thighs, and his dick all up in one go. He's meant to see it coming, the playful bite at his stomach, and he could stop him, shove him off-

\- he doesn't, lets his muscles jerk as the contact through his white t-shirt makes the mattress stutter against the hardwood frame and yelps, "Dongho!"

Dongho's still got the tent of white cotton between his teeth when he looks at him, still wearing a grin. 

"You brat." Jonghyun laughs. He grabs hold of the back of Dongho's knee, and this time he's the one tugging. A quick pull is all Dongho needs to understand, straddling him and lets the t-shirt free as he straightens, hands bracing on Jonghyun's bared navel. "Done moping?" 

"No, you're meant to be cheering me up." Dongho's laughter does that more than enough for the both of them, so Jonghyun responds by slipping his hands to settle on the other's waist. Holds him in place, blunt fingernails scraping gently at Dongho's naked back. He's glorious up there, tanned skin and black ink, and he rocks his hips as Jonghyun lifts his up to meet him halfway.

"What, this doesn't make you feel good?" Jonghyun asks. 

The air's clear now that Dongho's smiling; there's none of that shame that used to be there back when having a hard cock and his best friend in his bed didn't end in a good time for both of them-

\- the joys of being together, he supposes, and sits up as Dongho leans down, lips joining in a slow, strained kiss. When they part, it's to laugh and kiss again. 

"You're too high up there baby," Jonghyun's up on his elbow, can't quite reach when Dongho sits up again and bounces on him lightly, "you don't want a kiss anymore?"

"You know what I want." Dongho mutters. 

"Then come back here so I can give it to you."

It's comfort, when they fit together, and it's joy when they come apart. Satisfaction when Dongho finally does break down in his arms that night, tears running down his cheeks and sobbing into the damp pillowcase.

"Let it out baby, I got you." Jonghyun's right there, he's close too, and as Dongho rocks back, he's not the only one who lets out what he'd been holding in.

Heavy cries, desperate pleas fill the air and the space between them, small as it is. It's pleasure too, finally, that melts Dongho against him when they sprawl out on the mattress.

"Dongho-ah." He says his name like it can wake up his boyfriend, but Dongho's snoring now, in his arms.

So Jonghyun does the same thing as he did way back in highschool; he pulls the other's sleeping form in closer, kisses the top of his head, and thinks, _'God, I'm lucky to have this, even this_ ', because any amount of Dongho he can have - it's more than enough.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! Comments&kudos are very appreciated!


	15. just out of reach | BaekMin (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyun reaches
> 
> and keeps reaching
> 
> til he gets there

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the end of the jerk year that is 2020 and i've been in a slump but w/e let's celebrate! 
> 
> tysm prompter for participating in the meme, ilysssssssssm eee!

-

Minhyun's hands have, in Dongho's opinion, always been remarkably small.

Remarkable, because when considering the rest of the man's proportions, they did not quite fit the length of his arms, his torso, his legs. Dongho can admit he used to be envious of the other’s height - cupboards, shelves, sights, and air that would always be out of reach for him without a step ladder were merely part of Minhyun’s everyday experience as a tall man. 

Frustrating too, when Minhyun would put things up on purpose in their apartment where he knew Dongho couldn’t get to. A jerk move, really. Standing in the doorway and just watching whenever Dongho struggles, arms above his head and every muscle in his body stretched to its limit and shirt dragging up his sides, with a little satisified smile on his face. 

But in the matter of hands, Dongho finally had a natural advantage. Even with shorter thumbs, his handspan was greater than his roommate’s, and that might not sound like much, but when it comes to things like this, 

"I can't reach." Minhyun tells him, fingers splayed over the keys. His pinky is barely able to graze the flat ivory, straining so hard that the creases in his skin deepen and darken between the delicate webbing. 

"What?" He pushes the key down, lets the G note resound weakly and harmonise with the laughter of the man on the stool beside him.

"It's just-," Dongho shakes his head, wipes a hand down the corners of his lips as if to drag his smile off his face. Instead it just smears his victorious amusement over the rest of him as Minhyun glances up, staring expectantly. "-no it's nothing-"

Minhyun nods, strokes his pinky over the ivory and makes another attempt to push before he simply moves his entire hand. It flops over against it like a lazy cat and the note echoes more clearly in the tiny recording studio. It's otherwise quiet in the cramped room - the blessings of soundproof walls; a blessing they've both had on their lips during different practice sessions, Dongho thinks as he looks at the wall just past the tip of Minhyun's nose, recalling the songs and harmonies they've created against one another in here where no one else could hear.

"That's better, even if you cheated." Dongho leans forward to move the sheet music folder on to the next page.

"Cheated?" Minhyun challenges, pressing the key down in rapid succession, "It's making a sound-"

"You're meant to reach for it-"

"I'm _reaching_ -" The 'G' keeps sprinkling sweetly in Dongho's ear, then shifts an octave higher as Minhyun moves his hand across the keyboard, "-see-"

"You're just _cheating_ even more-" Dongho sticks his chin out, but he laughs because Minhyun's hands are so cute, insistent on the keys in the same way they sneak into Dongho's hoodie pockets to get warm or find his hand under the table when they're out at dinner with his family. 

"-reaching-" Minhyun insists. 

The octave grows higher, a persistent buzzing of the same sweet note sounded by the same pinky, then higher and higher still. 

His arm becomes outstretched, elbow jutting into Dongho's shaking chest.

"- _reaching_ -," Like a gleeful child finding a loophole to escape chores, Minhyun's smiling as he leans further over the seat, keeps looking at Dongho while the other continues laughing even as he shakes his head.

"Minyeon-ah ok you can stop cheating-" Dongho places his hand over Minhyun's, gentle, snags his pinky with his own. 

The trilling note stops. 

Minhyun's cranes his neck, elongates to his full, impressive length. His shoulder sags against Dongho's and he tilts his chin up.

Even if it's a trick, some kind of game at his expense, Dongho can't help it, he has to look. And when he does, Minhyun's face is so close to his, the hint of minty breath ghosting Dongho's mouth.

"-reached." Minhyun murmurs, and presses down with his pink lips.

Insistently.

Repeatedly. 

  
  


The trilling note starts again.

But this time, Dongho's pretty sure he's the only one who can hear it echoing in his chest.

-

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading!


	16. damsels & dessert | JBaek (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plots are always the same, but for once Jonghyun isn't hoping for a twist ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for your patience, dear anon. i know its been a while and if you're still out there, i do hope you enjoy this drabble!

-

Jonghyun sighs deeply, forefinger hovering in hesitation. He doesn't know who writes all of these RPG plots. It's probably that guy who made the Mario games, he considers, because it's the earliest game series he can think of where the hero beats down a bad guy just to recover his helpless princess back to his side and restore order to an otherwise chaotic existence.

But, he reasons, there's been stories since the beginning of folk tales that follow the same structure - so maybe it isn't the games that are the problem, but with the transfixion of humanity on a princess being a prize worth stealing.

Worth saving, no matter how many lives were spent.

It does get a little boring, though. Jonghyun's played through the scenario many times, from childhood in the backyard where his neighbour was the princess and he was a knight who was allowed therefore to swing a bamboo stick after his hyung ( _ 'that's not fair, I'm not even playing!' Aron had whined as he ran; 'Quiet, dragon!' Jonghyun giggled, Mingi and Minhyun clapping behind him _ ), to the pixellated royals that wept in joy at the completion of a dozen stages.

Luckily, he doesn't always play a game for the storyline, or it might annoy him more. A pixel princess in distress wasn't the real prize; it was a symbol of victory over all obstacles, a representation of patience, hard work, and pure devotion. 

Jonghyun is happy to keep collecting, working hard, staying patient for that reason. 

This new game is unlike the others - the princess for one, is of course beautiful, but spunkier than the usual stereotype, Jonghyun's glad to see. More of a shy warrior whose heart of gold was tricked by a pretty face crying for help, only to be ambushed and dragged away by evil minions. The hero isn't typical either: small, unassuming, no special skills, just a burning loyalty to keep his royal best friend out of trouble.

It's compelling, actually. 

He kind of wants to see where it goes. 

These games always have a romance plot too. As much as the stereotypical stories are boring after so long, he's hoping deep down that this one will unfold like all the happy fairy tales. Jonghyun is not really interested in a twist ending where the princess actually falls for the pretty kidnapper and doesn't want to be saved, forgetting the brave hero and all the promises they swore to each other in the little garden where they first met.

Only way to see, he supposes, is to keep playing. Curling up on the couch cushions, Jonghyun fills his character's inventory with expensive potions and new gear. He can see the princess is in trouble, but he's undecided on what path to take next.

So many options. 

"Jonghyun, save me!" Dongho's flailing limbs are barely visible under the combined powers of Mingi's and Aron's tickling hands. His cries are swallowed between helpless gasps of laughter.

Jonghyun pauses for a moment, catching a glimpse of the desperate amber eyes clouded with amusement and tears and something in his heart tugs as his lips rise. Mingi and Aron continue their playful torture of their friend, but they look over their shoulders at Jonghyun too. Minhyun chuckles from across the room, closes the fridge door with the last of the strawberries in a bowl nestled between his elbow and side.

Jonghyun glances back down at his phone.

"J-jonghyun no-!" More hysterical laughter follows, mixes with cackling, with thumps of straining arms and legs.

Jonghyun presses 'continue'.

Some princesses, he decides, can be saved after dessert. 

  
  


-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments of any length and coherency & kudos are treasured, tysm for reading!


	17. Jasmine and Rose Petals | 2hyun (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CEO Hwang Minhyun gives his secretary Kim Jonghyun a dose of a love potion.
> 
> The outcome is not what he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by inpiniteu's tweet [ here](https://twitter.com/astropicals/status/1363062284592025606).
> 
> it was only meant to be 250 characters max
> 
> ...........1.2k words on my phone later and im as surprised as you are. anw this is my 2nd 2hyun ever so be gentle pls.
> 
> for my precious cupcake, ily.

-

"Minhyun... what's wrong?" Dongho asks as he helps pack up.

The sterile room is quiet, negotiations settled and decisions signed off by all twelve board members, with a finishing flourish by their CEO, Hwang Minhyun. 

He's gotten them all to agree to the expensive digital transformation project, funding for a new marketing initiative, and he knows he should be giddy with success after how hard he had worked.

Yet it's bitterness on his tongue when he admits to his best friend quietly,

"That love spell I bought… it didn't work." Minhyun waves at where his secretary was visible at his desk through the window panes separating him from the board room.

"What'd you mean?" Dongho remembers the effects on it himself. An intense rush fizzing through his veins, bubbling like hysterical laughter trying to be contained at a funeral. Impulsive. Reckless. Overpowering. It hadn't lasted long, at least. Long enough that Dongho had some regrets, but nothing his husband couldn't forgive. "It's only meant to take a sip cause Mingi-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Minhyun interrupts, "and I know he _had_ it, I made the tea myself, watched him drink it-"

He'd been nervous too, worse than in any multi-million dollar negotiation or monopolising takedown. Though no stranger to underhanded tactics from time to time to get what he wanted, there was something...awkward about giving Jonghyun, his secretary of so many talents yet constantly refusing promotions over the last three years, a _love_ potion. 

Minhyun hadn't at first thought he even needed to- he'd waited it out, hopeful Jonghyun would fall for him like everyone else always seemed to in the end. 

He tried moving his desk so Jonghyun would always see him at his best angle. 

He tried flirting with him.

Complimenting him, promoting him, buying him lavish gifts and leaving it on his desk. 

Jonghyun was always polite, thanked him, then immediately went back to work.

It was infuriating.

Minhyun wanted more than polite words. He wanted tanned fingers slotted between his own, he wanted that warm, indulgent smile turned to _him_ and not that ridiculous spud growing in a cup on his desk.

He wanted Jonghyun, but Jonghyun seemed oblivious to Minhyun's multitude of charms.

And looks.

And gifts.

And compliments.

And care.

So Minhyun had had to take drastic measures and like all good ideas, it had come from the one and only:-

_"Have you tried_ talking _to him?" Choi Mingi had asked him over brunch._

_"Huh? No! Shouldn't he just-?" Minhyun performed a rolling gesture with his hands, upsetting the teacup steaming in front of him, "Ah- sh--!" He dabbed a napkin over his barely scalded hand._

_Mingi raised his brows, the elegant curve visible above his black Versace glasses. It matched his imported grey suit, imported red car, and his Jeju-imported husband._

_"Serves you right." He sniffed._

_Minhyun gave him an innocent, wounded look that would have had anyone melt._

_Anyone not made of the stuff Mingi and Jonghyun were made out of, apparently._

_"-if you talk to him instead of leaving huge giftboxes at his desk, he'd probably accept at least a date and maybe not magically dump you after the first one."_

_"That's it!" Minhyun perked up excitedly. "Magic!"_

  
  


Only the magic had been doled out and nothing had happened. Jonghyun had seemed shocked at first to be served tea by his own CEO while they were working back late, but nothing changed in his gaze when he drank it and looked at Minhyun afterwards. 

Just a normal "thank you, sir", while Minhyun's ears burnt bright red and his heart stammered in his chest.

He hadn't dared to attempt another dose after that. Minhyun instead continued to bring tea and snacks during the late nights when only the two of them worked over the next month.

It was nice, to the point that Minhyun didn't mind staying back late and missing his favourite dramas like he usually would. His secretary refused dismissal, matching Minhyun's work schedule minute for minute. At first, Minhyun tried to insist.

Now, Minhyun allowed himself to simply accept and enjoy his secretary's determination to stay at his side.

If only-

-but after the failed love potion, that was it. Minhyun refused to dwell on it.

Until Dongho pointed out after the board meeting emptied out, that Minhyun looked sad. 

"-but it's fine." Minhyun smiles, lighter than he really feels.

It will be, he knows, because as he leaves the room, Jonghyun immediately follows him to his office.

Talks him through his daily schedule, his missed calls, and makes Minhyun laugh when he points out, "I tried to say you were too busy to participate in the work wellness session but the yoga instructor wouldn't hear of it."

"Jonghyun-ah." Minhyun ducks his head, laughter clattering between his frantic heartbeats as his secretary adjusts his collar for him, "you know me so well."

"Someone has to look out for you," Jonghyun replies, stepping away with a smile, "can't have our CEO complaining he can't touch his toes, what would our competitors say?"

Minhyun runs a hand through his fringe, settling behind his desk. His glasses sit neatly atop a small stack of papers, laptop awaiting his password. A steaming cup of chamomile tea waits to be touched by his lips, and Minhyun feels that familiar, aching warmth to see everything so ready for him. Perfect, like Jonghyun is.

"I'd tell them it proves how unreachable I am, head to toe." Minhyun chuckles, and gives his secretary a grateful nod as he picks up his tea.

"Right you are, sir." Jonghyun laughs too, bowing at his hip in dismissal and closes Minhyun's office door behind him.

Alone, the tea tastes more bitter.

Minhyun doesn't mind bitter tastes, swallows the gold liquid and starts tapping out his password.

He wonders if the love potion had changed the taste of Jonghyun's tea when he made it for him, but no, he didn't recall it.

He'd taste tested it himself, just a tiny drop sipped from Jonghyun's mug before pouring the rest in the pot to be served. The wizard assured him that it wouldn't have any effect on those who were already in love, so it was safe. 

It had tasted like jasmine and rose petals. 

Normal. 

A little bitter, but very sweet.

Minhyun glances over at his secretary, who is now busy helping out the new international liaison Dongho hired last week, and takes another sip of tea before letting it cool beside his keyboard.

Magic hadn't worked and it was his last resort. It was time to accept reality.

Minhyun sets his glasses onto the bridge of his nose. It will be another long, late night at the office.

  
  


And this, he's decided, will be his final cup of tea.

  
  
  
  
  


-

  
  
  


_One month_ _earlier_ : 

" _Sir, that's a job for a secretary, allow m-" Jonghyun had tried to protest the second time._

_"No?" Minhyun was puzzled, setting down the tray and pulling up a chair, "it's my job."_

_"But you're the CEO, sir."_

_"I am," Minhyun carefully poured Jonghyun's cup for him first, eyes on the arc of amber liquid pooling into gold-veined porcelain._

_Soon it would be cradled in Jonghyun's hands, held with a controlled tenderness Minhyun accepted would never be his to experience. Yet it pleased him to even see it, if only to enjoy how Jonghyun seemed to relax after such a tense day._

_Minhyun poured his own cup, continuing with a small laugh that would prompt one from Jonghyun seconds later, "and I see to it I only do jobs the CEO gives me."_

_He'd been so focussed, he missed the controlled tenderness-_

_-not in Jonghyun's hands, but in the brown eyes that watched his concentrated expression._

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos & comments really make my day ;; tysm for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> ✦[fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


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